Why is, and whence, the Po in flames? and why br In consternation do its borderers raise br Imploring hands to mortal men around br And Gods above? Are Gods implacable? br Or men bereft of sight at such a blaze? br Apollo hath no more a son; his breath br Is stifled, and smoke only fills the air br Where once was fire, and men to men were true. br Fierce ones and faithless now approach the waste, br Who look transversely with an evil eye, br And scowl and threaten, and uplift the sword, br And, if they lower it, 'tis but to grasp more br And more of amber left on either bank. Apollo hates the land he once so loved, br Nor swan is seen nor nightingale is heard br Nigh the dead river and affrighted vale, br For every Nymph shed there incessant tears, br And into amber hardened all they shed.